Drabbles and Shorts
by entallat
Summary: As a holiday gift to my readers, until January 1st 2020, I'm taking requests. Leave a review for any one of my stories and include a word prompt. I'll do a 100 word (or longer if the muse strikes me) drabble for you and post it here. Drabbles will be posted 5 at a time in a single chapter. Anything longer than that gets its own chapter. Subscribe for updates!
1. Chapter 1

The first fourteen of these are "drabbles" - about a 100 words or so each - written in response to The Drabble Game prompts on The Delphic Expanse forum from 2011 to 2015. I'm posting here on AO3 since I plan on adding to these as more warm up exercises for my upcoming multi-chapter fics.

100 word dribbles will be posted 5 at a time in a single "chapter". Anything longer than that gets its own chapter. I'll be updating this one randomly with new short pieces, so be sure to subscribe.

As a holiday gift to my readers, from now until January 1st 2020, I'm taking requests. Leave a review for any one of my stories, and include a word prompt at the end of your review. (Please leave an actual review, and not just the word prompt? Reviews are cherished gifts to fanfic writers!) I'll do a 100 word (or longer if the muse strikes me) drabble for you and post it here.

**Drabble #1**.

Prompt was "clinging".

He cursed in six different languages.

"We invented a ship that can travel faster than the speed of light!" Pots rattled. "We created a device that can chop you up into tiny little bits ("Dematerialize", squeaked Crewman Cunningham from a safe distance across the room) and send you from here to there in the blink of an eye!" A rolling pin fell off the table.

"But in all the decades of scientific progress," raged Chef as he tore off another sheet, "could no one invent a plastic wrap that would stop clinging to itself?!"

oOo

**Drabble #2.**  
Prompt was "bliss".

A glass of wine?

Nah.

A luxurious massage perhaps?

Nice, but no.

A long, lingering kiss by a special someone?

Tempting, very tempting. But not quite.

Chocolate?

No. Not even that.

After the day she'd had, slogging though the endless rain of this planet, stumbling through mud and muck filled streets as she kept up with the diplomatic entourage to provide her expertise in translation, nothing, thought Hoshi as she rested her forehead against the cool tile and breathed a long sigh of utter contentment, absolutely nothing, could compare to the ultimate bliss …

… of a hot shower.

oOo

**Drabble #3. **

Prompt was "smoke".

T'Pol came to an abrupt stop on the suspension walk as the shuttlepod's rear hatch opened and thick black smoke rose up towards the launch bay ceiling. Before she could move again, three men stumbled out of the pod and collapsed against the stairs. For several moments the only sounds were coughing and T'Pol's page of Dr. Phlox.

"What happened?"

"I don't know," said Trip, his voice raw.

"Travis deserves a medal for - literally - flying blind," added Archer between coughs.

The helmsman smiled weakly. "Thanks. But maybe we'd better use the transporter until Commander Tucker figures out what happened."

oOo

**Drabble #4.**

Prompt was "game".

Trip coughed as the dust rose, "I don't think anybody's been up here in decades."

T'Pol peered into the attic from her vantage point on the top of the stairs. "Your grandmother was insistent regarding an antique you and I should have. She also seemed … amused."

Trip grinned. "A strange sense of humor is a Tucker trait ... wait. What's this?" He held out a crumbling bit of cardboard. "Didn't she say it was a old game?"

T'Pol took it carefully. "It says ... 'Twister'." An eyebrow went up. "I don't see what could be amusing about it."

Trip's grin grew as he read the yellowed instruction sheet. "I do."

oOo

**Drabble #5.**

Prompt was "peanuts".

"It won't budge."

"Commander Tucker said he'd be here in a moment."

Travis stared at the door to his quarters in frustration, oblivious to the crowd gathering behind him, before jabbing at the controls again. A loud pop – and suddenly the door slid open, followed by an avalanche of what appeared to be ...

... packing peanuts.

Travis picked one up. Recyclable packing peanuts. The kind that filled cargo crates and, he looked up, his quarters.

The corridor behind him erupted into snorts of laughter and he stood, speechless, as Crewman Rostov handed the helmsman a genuine shovel.

"Never prank the Chief Engineer, Ensign."


	2. Chapter 2

**Drabble #6. **

Prompt was "air".

"Breathe. That's right." Phlox adjusted the mask on Ensign Maria Gomez's face. "As deeply as you can. There now, does that feel better?"

The young geologist nodded, wide-eyed as much from the aftermath of her encounter with alien pollen as from the floating luminescent blobs in the jar attached to her Starfleet Medical issue nebulizer.

Phlox didn't miss the wary gaze. "Kreetassan Zephyrs produce an anti-histamine like substance that's highly effective in Humans. They're also useful night-lights."

Maria gave the Doctor a dubious look as she continued to breath in deeply. She could have sworn one of the blobs had winked at her.

oOo

**Drabble #7.**

Prompt was "copper".

It was disturbing, to say the least.

Malcolm swept the area with his eyes and tried not to focus on the smell permeating the corridors of the _Seleya_. Disturbing ... because it brought to mind homey memories, rather than visions of death and dying. Every so often a wave of sweet smelling copper-based blood would remind him of the antique tea kettle Mum would bring out for special occasions or the ancient pennies in Father's coin collection he once had permission to touch. He could even taste it on his tongue and that thought alone was making him nauseous.

oOo

**Drabble #8.**

Prompt was "flowers".

Stop and smell the flowers. Wasn't that how the saying went?

Ethan Novakovich shot the transporter a terrified glance as he passed it by. Stop and smell the flowers! Look what that had got him! Permanent scars and the knowledge that his molecules had been torn apart and recombined with plants, rocks and who-knows-what-else, like some modern day creature from one of Commander Tucker's infamous 20th century movies.

He should have listened to Aunt Sophie and taken that position with the Smithsonian. Or, he thought back to last night's movie, maybe not. With his luck, some mummy would have come to life.

oOo

**Drabble #9. **

Prompt was "pickle".

Trip pulled at the gooey substance they'd fallen into. "This is a fine pickle we've gotten into."

"This appears to be a hydrocarbon-based substance rather than a brine, Commander."

"It means predicament, Sub-Commander." Travis stood and tried to walk, looking like an automaton as the gooey substance made very movement achingly slow. "So does 'jam'… and this stuff kinda looks like it."

Hoshi smirked, "Another term is 'hot water', which, ironically, we could use right now."

"Hush!" Malcolm threw down a rope. "That creature might hear you and I'm fairly certain this is a defense mechanism to protect a nest."

oOo

**Drabble #10.**

Prompt was "cover".

He saw it land a few feet away and ducked for cover.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

The concussive force of the explosion was enough to shake the floor like an earthquake. For a moment, Sergeant Vincent Martinez thought the bulkheads might rupture and the entire team would be sucked out into space.

"Bloody hell. They're suicidal." Lieutenant Reed's words echoed his own thoughts.

The tactical officer silently motioned instructions. Vincent nodded back in confirmation and turned around, motioning to Jacobs and Liana. A beat, and then the three of them crept around the corner while the others gave them cover fire.


	3. Chapter 3

**Drabble #11.**

Prompt was "mark".

Ensign McFarlane stared in horror at the sight of Cargo Bay's Two floor several meters below him.

It'd started as a routine shift, just checking the cargo manifest, when gravity had shifted. He and the storage containers had been flung with such force to the ceiling that he was sure he'd left a mark on the bulkhead. McFarlane closed his eyes. It didn't help that he was a little leery of heights. If the gravity shifted again now …

Shit! He managed to wrap his arms around his head and curl into a fetal position just before the floor came rushing up to greet him.

oOo

**Drabble #12.  
**No prompt

"Hey!" Trip dropped a flight bag onto the sand beside T'Pol and trotted after the catamaran, already several yards offshore and dragging his kayak behind. "That's my boat!"

The man at the wheel of the fleeing ship just grinned back at Trip, teeth flashing in the sun against dark skin. "Beautiful woman, beautiful private island. Plenty of supplies. You don't need no stinkin' boat, mon!"

The islander waved a sun-bleached cap at the engineer. "I come rescue you in the morning." He put the cap back on and steered the boat farther off shore. "Or in the evening." He shrugged. "The next day, maybe." He grinned again. "Eventually!" he yelled back.

oOo

**Drabble #13.  
**Prompt was "owl".

Ensign Sato tried to keep her eyes focused on the translation device in her hands, resisting the temptation to stare at their guests. It wasn't just their stature that was intimidating, each one easily clearing seven feet, or the patterned down that looked almost like feathers. It was the intense eyes that startled her so. Peering over carapace-covered noses, the looked like terrifyingly larger-than-life owls.

"This is our linguist, Hoshi Sato," said Captain Archer.

One of the aliens, distracted by the sight of passing crewmen, swiveled his around almost 270 degrees to stare wide-eyed at the ensign. "Who?" he asked.

oOo

**(double) Drabble #14. ****  
**no prompt

Malcolm Reed closed his eyes wearily against a brief onslaught of curses coming from an indentation in the snow a few meters to the left.

"Commander."

Silence.

"Are you alright?" Silence. Malcolm sighed. "Trip!"

"Yes, dammit! I'm fine!" Another long pause of silence, and then a more conciliatory tone. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. I just…" There was a cough and then silence fell again.

Malcolm squinted into the biting wind of this frozen moon and regarded the source of the engineer's voice. The snowmobile was on its side, sunk at least a meter into the snow, one track askew. To the left, a deep impression in the snow in which, presumably, a - rather irate as of late - Starfleet engineer lay, like some kind of disgruntled snow angel.

Taking a step backwards off his loaded sled, Malcolm sunk to his knees in the soft snow. It was coming down faster and thicker now, and even just these few feet away it was getting harder to see a few meteres ahead of him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Drabble #15.**

Prompt was "grid".

She could read the unspoken words in the blue eyes across from her. _One more time. Please._

T'Pol tapped the controls in front of her to re-set the sensor matrix and repeat the previous sweep, narrowing the grid pattern. "This will take a few minutes." The tension on the bridge was palpable as the minutes seemed to stretch on interminably.

Finally, a light flashed on her station panel. She swiveled around to take a closer look through her viewer. "I've found it," she declared simply as she straightened up.

Archer nodded and tapped a button on the arm of the command chair, "Transporter? Can you get a lock on it?"

Commander Tucker's voice rang through the intercom, "Just a sec…" There was a long pause and then, "Got it!"

The bridge crew exchanged looks as Archer turned towards the view screen and an anxiously waiting Kreetassan. Before either one could speak, a child's head peeked over the bottom edge of the viewable area. "Did you find my dolly?"

Hoshi bit back a smile, Travis grinned and Malcolm leaned back in his chair. T'Pol simply arched an eyebrow.

Archer replied, voice deadly serious, "Yes. She's safe and sound aboard Enterprise."

The adult Kreetasan added, "I'm going over there to meet with Captain Archer. I'll bring her back." He gave the Enterprise crew and captain a sheepish look just before the visual connection was cut.

Archer just smiled as whatever he was about to say to his crew was lost in a sea of giggles all around.


	5. Chapter 5

**(double-ish) Drabble #16.**  
Prompt was "stick".

"A stick, Malcolm?"

"It's called a quarterstaff, Commander, and it's a legitimate weapon with a long and storied history."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I've seen it in the old movies-"

"This is different. This- "

"We're in outer space, not the Middle Ages. We're facing plasma weapons and disruptors! When am I ever going to need to wield a stick?"

"Quarterstaff. And it doesn't matter if matter if you need to or not. It helps build coordination and balance. Besides, this isn't that different from a kendo stick or a Vulcan lirpa. All formidable weapons."

"I'll take my chances with a phase pistol."

"Besides, what if you get pregnant again, by sticking your hands in a bowl of rocks?"

"You had to bring that up."

"It's too good not too."

"What does that have to do with fighting with a stick?"

"Well, what if they have a ritual battle to the death for a woman's hand?"

[T'Pol stumbles off the treadmill]

"T'Pol? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Commander. Lieutenant."

"Trip. My training, my rules."

"Tell me why we're friends again?"

"Because it's safer not to be my enemy."

"That's debatable."

"En guard."


	6. Chapter 6

**Drabble #17.**

For Weeble, whose prompt was "Spanish Moss"

T'Pol moved her hand scanner slowly in a deliberate pattern across the cluster of botanical specimens. Her sharp hearing picked up the sound of footsteps approaching, long before Commander Tucker spoke.

"It kinda reminds me of Spanish Moss. That stuff used to hang in all the trees in front of my grandmother's house."

T'Pol turned her head to arch an eyebrow at Trip, who was taking pictures. "This is not a moss."

Trip laughed. "And neither is Spanish Moss. It's actually a bromeliad. But it's damn pretty when the wind blows."

T'Pol carefully took a sample of the grey alien plant. "I should like to see that some day."

oOo

**Drabble #18.**

For Ken, whose prompt was "gift"

The polished brass gleamed in his hands, and for the next several minutes Enterprise's Tactical Officer was speechless.

"I downloaded a pattern based on one at the National Maritime Museum in Greenwich," Trip said. "From 1790, I think."

"You made this?"

Trip nodded. "I've machined duritanium parts for Enterprise – makin' somethin' out of brass wasn't that difficult. Sorry about the Starfleet issue hardside case. The museum artifact had a wooden one but…" he shrugged.

"There's a shortage of lumber on Enterprise," said Malcolm, "It's quite alright. Rather appropriate, actually."

"To be honest, I wasn't sure if you already had one. Here, in your quarters I mean." Trip smiled sheepishly. "I know you didn't have a sextant on the Shuttlepod."

"As you didn't have a slide rule." Malcolm chuckled. "Thank you, Trip. It's magnificent."

_[AUTHORS NOTE: The artifact Trip mentions is NAV1226 in the Royal Museums of Greenwich collections. You can find it online.]_


End file.
